


We Can Talk with Our Hands

by ilokheimsins



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Deaf!Eggsy, M/M, Oblivious Harry, Roxy owns a bakery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-06
Updated: 2016-08-06
Packaged: 2018-07-29 19:28:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7696501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilokheimsins/pseuds/ilokheimsins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A gorgeous young man moves in across the way and Harry slowly falls in love with his smile.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Can Talk with Our Hands

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ShippersList](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShippersList/gifts).



> My fill for the Hartwin Summer 2016 Secret Santa for [ShippersList](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ShippersList/pseuds/ShippersList)  
> Prompt:
> 
> An absolutely charming young man moves into the flat/house right next to Harry's. He offers Harry brilliant smiles every day, and Harry finds himself slowly growing smitten. When he finally gathers the courage to actually talk to the young man, he never answers. (Cue: he's Deaf.)
> 
> I did some research into preferred terms & preferred method of communication (Sign language, writing, text) and also used the experiences of someone I've known since we were kids: she prefers texting people but also likes signing. And I felt with Eggsy's personality - proud of who he is but still a part of the tech generation - he would have similar preferences.
> 
> Re: the bees. My first Spanish teacher thought that teaching us Spanish would work best if she used a specific subject which turned out to be bees. I can still make a whole convo about bees in Spanish.
> 
> There is a for realsies ASL restaurant in [Toronto](http://signsrestaurant.ca/) that hires deaf people for its entire staff! It's built around promoting the use of ASL in daily life and about giving deaf people opportunities in the hospitality and service industry. The food is also supposed to be really good and I highly recommend you go check it out if you live in the area or ever visit.
> 
> Please let me know if anything is incorrect or stands out as problematic and I'll do my best to fix it!

Harry Hart, bachelor extraordinaire, current holder of most successful missions and highest kill count but not most destroyed public property – thank the fucking gods, and known throughout the agency for being the most suave and seductive agent on honeypots, could not take his eyes off the young man moving in across the way.  It’s unbecoming, horribly so, that Harry has spent the last thirty minutes conveniently perched on his balcony to do his paperwork on the account of the weather being so nice.

Yes.

The weather.

Nothing whatsoever to do with the young man with hair the color of honey in the sun and a bright smile as he coos at a young girl and swings her up into the air, making her shriek with delight.  This would, on the whole, be a lot more believable if Harry hadn’t already sent Merlin an incomplete document twice because he was too distracted with the way the young man smiled to notice he was hitting send instead of save.

“Harry, I swear to fecking god, if you get distracted by the sunlight reflecting off the boy’s eyes or some shit and send me something incomplete again, I will steal all your whiskey,” Merlin threatens as Harry’s finger hovers over the left click.

“I am not distracted,” Harry says, and is promptly distracted when the young man looks up, catches sight of Harry, and waves hugely, laughing as the girl cradled in his other arm mimics the movement.  Harry waves back in a much more contained manner and manages a warm smile of his own.

Merlin sighs in his ear, “Harry, just do something else and stop sending me half-done shit.”

***

Harry sees the young man every single day after that.

Mr. Pickle, demanding little fuck that he is, starts the day off by jumping on Harry’s chest and stepping on his face until Harry is present enough to shove him off, at which point Mr. Pickle zooms away to start yapping his head off by the front door until Harry drags himself through the morning routine of making himself presentable to the outside world.

On the first day after the new family – the Unwins, Merlin tells him later – moves in, Harry looks up when the door opens while he’s still trying to wrestle Mr. Pickle’s leash on.  The young man from the day before bites down on a smile when he catches sight of Harry and gives a quick wave before loping off.  Harry only realizes that he hasn’t waved back and is in fact staring “like a lameazoid” – what James says later – when Mr. Pickle bites him gently on the chin.

The next day, he has the presence of mind to wave when the young man smiles and waves before running to catch the bus.  It then becomes routine for Harry to wave and smile back when the young man does.  The routine is of course broken when Merlin sends him on a two month mission to Ouagadougou where he spends his time either dying of heat or getting caught in the sudden rain as he tries to take out a sniper before it takes out a duke’s daughter visiting on vacation.

“Your boy has been looking forlornly at your door for the last two weeks,” Merlin deigns to tell him as he makes a nonchalant escape from the sniper’s hideout mere moments before it mysteriously goes up in flames.

“He is not my boy,” Harry murmurs back snappishly.

“Mmm,” Merlin hums.  “Explains why he’s been all sad at your door and asking the neighbors about when you might be coming back.”

“I don’t even know his name,” Harry points out.

“Eggsy,” Merlin says nonsensically.

“Er, the newest breakfast food craze?” Harry hazards a guess as he neatly steps out of the street and down an alley as people begin to notice the blaze.

Merlin sighs, “No, your boy’s name.  Gary Unwin, called Eggsy by everyone for some reason I cannot fathom.”

“Not my boy,” Harry reminds Merlin yet again.

“Mmm.”

Harry’s not quite sure Merlin believes him.

“Extraction five minutes out,” Merlin says.

“Thank fuck,” Harry says, relieved at being able to miss the projected downpour later this afternoon.  Of course, because the weather has always hated him, the sky cracks open and unleashes a sudden torrential rain.

***

Harry grumbles about wet suits all the way back to London and then all the way through his briefing and then all the way home, which is a distance he ends up having to take the bloody tube for because Merlin takes a special joy in fucking with his agents.

“No cabs left,” Merlin had said, his malicious glee at ribbing his oldest friend clear across his face, while he waved Bedivere – a spry agent two decades younger than Harry – into the last cab.  Bedivere, to his credit, looked mildly abashed at stealing it until Merlin turned his laser gaze onto him, whereupon Bedivere had swiftly shoved himself into the car and closed the door hastily to avoid it.

“Fuck you too,” Harry had replied, ever mild, and turned on one prim heel to book it to the nearest tube station.

A small child shrieks and smacks his trousers with its sticky, ice cream coated hands and Harry tries not to grimace as he tells the harried looking father that it’s no problem, dry cleaning should be able to take care of the issue.

The point being that Harry is really fucking tired and has a cotton candy pink handprint dripping down the thigh of his right trouser leg when he espies the familiar golden-haired back of the head that belongs to Eggsy.  He refuses to examine exactly why it is that he knows what the back of Eggsy’s head looks like (too much staring at it while the young man jogs towards the bus stop) and instead calls out to him.

“Eggsy,” Harry says, frowning when he doesn’t get a reaction.  He tries again, ambling towards him all the while.  Each successive call garners no response and finally Harry is close enough to place a gentle hand on Eggsy’s shoulder.

He is absolutely not expecting the fist that flies towards his face and smashes him right in the nose.  Harry stumbles back a step, hand automatically going up to check whether or not his nose has been broken.  It’s joined seconds later by a set of blunter fingers delicately prodding at the bridge and Harry looks up to see Eggsy looking horrified and ashamed.

“I’m quite fine,” Harry says and removes his hand to show Eggsy that he is indeed injury free, not even a piddly little nosebleed to show for the encounter.

Eggsy nods swiftly, still looking guilty, and snags his stuff off the bench and runs away, leaving Harry to stare after his retreating form in confusion.

***

The next morning, he stops by the expensive bakery three blocks over and picks up an assortment of every pastry they have – to the undiluted glee of their salesgirl, who even tosses in a fancy bow for his astronomical purchase.

“Apologizing to someone, hm?” She says knowingly as she carefully arranges the bow so that it’s just off center in a way that’s jaunty instead of crooked.

Harry doesn’t deign to answer the girl, Roxy as proclaimed by her name tag, and dutifully turns over his card when she requests it.

“We also do customs if these aren’t enough,” Roxy tells him and then scrutinizes him with such intensity that Harry is reminded of Merlin.  “Of course, I can’t see why they wouldn’t be, especially if you show up in that suit with them.”

“Um,” Harry says intelligently and then gamely does not flee when Roxy hands him the box.  He exits the store to Roxy’s gleeful “Have a nice day!” and the tinkling of her laughter.

It’s just getting to be nine when Harry shows up at the doorstep of the Unwin house and rings the bell.  The door is swung open by a mildly frazzled looking woman, who’s balancing the young girl Harry remembers from when the Unwins first moved in on her hip.  Michelle Unwin, if Harry recalls correctly from the files Merlin sent him.  She looks a far cry more tired in those photos though and Harry remembers something else about an abusive relationship with a terrible man who’d only just kicked it in some sort of gang fight.  The insurance payout was enormous and is likely what’s enabled them to move to the Mews.

“Yes?” She says, somewhat suspicious.  Which is valid, considering Harry probably looks like some sort of stripper gram, what with the glasses, suit, and enormous pastry box.

“Ah, good morning.  I’m looking for Eggsy Unwin?” He says.

Michelle stares at him for a beat more before pulling out her phone and texting faster with one hand than Harry can manage with two. And then she turns to stare at him again.

“You ain’t some kind of escort are you,” she accuses as she jostles the little girl into a better position.

Eggsy saves him from having to answer by thundering down the stairs.  He stops when he catches sight of Harry, his face a moue of shock and the very clear desire of wanting to hide.

“I’m terribly sorry,” Harry says, resigned to having to do this in front of Eggsy’s mother.  “I didn’t mean to startle you yesterday.”

Realization lights up Michelle’s face and the look she gives him next is cunning.

“You’re the bloke who lives across from us,” she says, more of a confirmation than a question.

“Yes,” Harry confirms anyway.

“Why don’t you come in,” Michelle says to him as she texts Eggsy again. Harry glances back at Eggsy, who's making frantic flailing motions at his mother that stop immediately when he notices Harry looking.  He flushes delightfully and Harry tamps down on an urge to see exactly how far the flush goes.

Michelle absconds to somewhere else in the house, leaving Eggsy to huff in resignation and motion Harry into the living room.

“For you, as an apology,” Harry says, once he’s seated.  Eggsy takes the enormous box and carefully picks apart the bow.  He gapes when he pries open the lid and goggles at Harry as if he can’t quite believe what he’s seeing.

Eggsy, after some internal debate it looks like, stands up and fetches a pad of paper and a pencil.  He plops himself onto the couch by Harry, legs sprawling open and Harry can just believe that the thigh pushed up against his is completely accidental because Eggsy is hastily scribbling something.

He pushes the paper to Harry and stares determinedly at his hands to avoid Harry’s gaze as he reads it.

_I’m deaf.  Didn’t know you was there yesterday and I’m sorry for hitting you._

“Oh,” Harry breathes out.  Their interaction from yesterday suddenly comes into sharp focus and he understands how someone suddenly putting a hand on you, especially given what Eggsy’s past must have been like, could be worthy of such a reaction.

_The fault is mine.  I should have walked around when you didn’t answer.  I apologize for startling you.  The pastries are part of the apology, by the way._

Eggsy’s eyes flicker quickly over the sheet when Harry hands it back and then he stares at the pastry box again.

_I’m gonna get fat._

_Nonsense, you’re a perfectly active young man.  I’m sure you’ll burn off the calories in no time._

_Yeah, gonna help with that?_

This is accompanied by a lascivious smirk and a wink and Harry coughs.  He suspects that the generation gap here is to blame for him not noticing the opening for sudden escalation of innuendo and Eggsy retreats a bit, obviously taking pity on him.

Michelle swans into the room again and signs something rapidly to Eggsy, who signs back and nods dutifully.

“I have to go,” Michelle tells Harry, “but you’re welcome to stay for tea.”

“Oh, thank you,” Harry says, somewhat surprised by Michelle’s hospitality but ever a gentleman.  She nods and then goes back down the hall, calling for Daisy as she goes.

_Daisy?_

_My little sis._

“Ah,” Harry says.

 _What kind of tea you like? We got shit earl grey and shittier orange pekoe_.

_Earl grey, please._

Eggsy nods and then stalks away into the kitchen.  Harry follows him sedately with the pastry box and settles himself down to watch Eggsy shake out the teabags, wincing slightly at the dust that flies off them, and drown them in boiling water.

They sit there in utter silence once the tea is done.  Eggsy tentatively reaches for one of the chocolate pastries with cream spilling out one end and shoves it into his mouth when it becomes clear that Harry is not, in fact, going to rip it out of his hands.

“Er,” Harry starts before he remembers that Eggsy can’t hear him.  The pad of paper is in the living room and Harry fumbles for a napkin when he realizes.

_BSL, is it?_

Eggsy nods, halfway through stuffing a second Boston cream éclair in his mouth.  Harry pointedly averts his gaze from the cream clinging to Eggsy’s bottom lip as he finishes it off or the way his tongue darts out to clean it off and especially away from the sight of Eggsy sucking his fingers noisily into his mouth to lick them clean.

_Perhaps you could teach me some basics?_

Eggsy boggles at him in confusion.

_Just to start me off.  I would take full classes at a language institution, of course._

Eggsy continues to stare at him.

_Is everything alright?_

Eggsy snatches the napkin from him and writes frantically.  His handwriting is less legible than it was before but it’s accompanied by a hopeful look and Harry can definitely overlook the messiness of the scrawl.

_You mean you want to?????_

Harry blinks down at it, somewhat confused.

_Of course, do people normally not?_

Eggsy shakes his head.

_They think we should learn to talk or to read lips because learning a different language is inconvenient for them._

His lip curls into a sneer and Harry has a brief aha moment.

_I would love to learn._

The smile Eggsy bestows him with outshines the sun.

***

Harry doesn’t quite burst into the Merlin department, but it’s very close, and he does vomit out, “Merlin I need to learn BSL immediately.”

Only three minions look up and Harry immediately pegs them as new additions to the ranks because this certainly isn’t the oddest thing Harry has come barging into the department to request and the others ignore him with the ease of those who’ve seen some shit before.

“Hello, Harry, pleased to see you too,” Merlin says blandly.  “I’ve already signed you up for a course offered every week.  It’s held at the local elementary school.  Every Wednesday at seven for two hours.”

“Ah, good, here’s your sushi,” Harry places the three tier box down next to Merlin, who takes it as if it’s his due.  Which, given that he seems to fulfill Harry’s requests before he makes them, it sort of is.

“Away with you now and go finish some of your fucking paperwork,” Merlin says as he delicately dips a roll into some soy sauce.

***

Several weeks later, during which Harry learns to spell out the entire alphabet and then promptly forgets half of it and learns a whole bunch of other words and phrases, he shows up on the Unwin doorstep bright eyed and bearing homemade pasta carbonara for his thrice weekly dinner with Eggsy.  Eggsy opens the door and groans when he sees the massive tray in Harry’s hand.  He obligingly sticks his hands out to accept the tray and Harry takes the moment to sign “Hello, how have you been?” at Eggsy.

Eggsy smiles at him, seemingly delighted at the fact that Harry no longer looks like he’s got claw hand when he tries to sign, and then steps back to let Harry in.  Michelle is gone for the night, some book club or other, and Daisy is at a sitter’s for the night.

_Mum winked when she left and told me good luck on my date.  Dunno how she got that idea._

The text pops up in Harry’s phone as Eggsy flashes him a cheeky smile and a good natured eye roll.  He turns his back to pull plates out of the cabinet and though he can see himself in the mirror in front of Eggsy, Harry feels quite safe in saying, “I would prefer if it were a date, though.  You’re absolutely gorgeous and I do enjoy seeing you smile.”

When Eggsy whips back around, his cheeks are a bit pink and he nearly fumbles the silverware when he sets it down.  He sets his phone just to the side of his plate and Harry does the same.  It’s easier for the moment for them to text since the only conversation Harry can really have at the moment is about bees.

_Holy shit, what u put in this???? Crack??? So fucking good_

Eggsy groans in rapture and completely misses the stricken look on Harry’s face at the sound.  Harry coughs and reminds himself that he’s far too old to be getting inconvenient hard-ons as he crosses his legs.

_Three different cheeses and bacon._

_So. Fucking. Good._

_They do say good food is good seduction._

_Fuck yeah I bet.  I’m seduced.  Take me, harry hart u gentleman u_

Harry once again marvels at how the younger generation can seemingly escalate the innuendo in a situation so quickly and completely misses the hopeful glance Eggsy peeks his way.

***

“Apologizing again, huh,” Roxy says to Harry as she packs away six of the chocolate cream cones that seem to be Eggsy’s favorite into a box.  She tosses a knowing wink at Eggsy, who winces and shakes his head.

Eggsy motions to his ears and Roxy’s eyes light up in understanding and she signs something quickly.  Harry is not nearly advanced enough to recognize all of the signs, but he does see “sorry” and “uncle” in the mix.  Eggsy signs back, lightning fast, and soon he and Roxy are deep in a silent conversation while Harry looks on in amusement.

 _Roxy’s p sick_ is what Eggsy texts him as he’s paying for the pastries.

Harry resolutely ignores the sting as he watches Eggsy smile and wave exuberantly at Roxy as they leave.

***

Eggsy is staring at the assortment of movies before him in critical determination as Harry, wrapped in a cardigan, watches him from the couch.  He can see the top of Eggsy’s head in the little mirror on the TV stand and the tuft of hair that’s stubbornly curling up out of the whorl there.

“I wish I could tell you how much I’ve come to love you,” he says aloud.  “You’re beautiful, you know.  Brave and determined.  Far more courageous than I am in the way you go about the world without apology for who you are.”

“I would tell you, you know,” Harry continues on. “But I’m twice your age and someone like Roxy would perhaps suit you better.”

Eggsy stands abruptly and stalks back over to the couch, cheeks flaming.  He drops Pretty Woman on the coffee table and then reaches for his phone.

_I can read lips_

Harry freezes at the sight of the words and then pushes past Eggsy, mumbling apologies and how he has to go.  He’s just through his own door when the broken call of “Harry, wait” comes after him.  He doesn’t have to turn to know Eggsy is there and he shuts the door anyway.

***

“You’re an idiot,” Merlin says placidly for the fourth time.

Harry stares mournfully at the Japanese pastries in the window of the shop.

“Anou…” The salesgirl interrupts his thoughts politely and Harry jerks back to himself before ordering a box of six of the cream pastries.

“He’s been staring sadly at your door again,” Merlin informs him as he pays for the pastries and retreats from the shop.

“Merlin, if you would please, for once, shut up,” Harry says tiredly and to his surprise, Merlin acquiesces.

***

He isn’t expecting to get a face full of whipped cream the moment he steps out his door to walk Mr. Pickle but that is exactly what he gets.  The tin clatters to the ground and Mr. Pickle barks loudly while Harry fumbles around with his foot to try and kick the aluminum away.  Harry sputters and removes his glasses to glare at the offender only to catch a glimpse of Eggsy’s furious face before he promptly gets another tin full of whipped cream to the face.

He wipes whipped cream out of his eyes and stands there, stupefied, as Eggsy signs angrily at him, expression getting closer and closer to crying until he kicks Harry in the shin and storms back towards his own house.

Harry somehow doesn’t immediately curl over to clutch at the hurt, but only just.

***

He goes to pick up some more of the hideously pricy pastries that Eggsy enjoys as an addendum to the Japanese ones he brought back.  Roxy spends the entire experience leading to ringing him up being icy and glaring at him stonily.

“You suck,” she pronounces finally as she tallies him up for twice as many pastries as he asked for.  Her laser glare dares him to correct her.

“I’m not quite sure what I did,” he admits.

“Oh my god,” Roxy blurts out.  “You don’t know what you did?  Eggsy has the hugest fucking torch for you in the fucking world and you spend months being an oblivious asshole before telling him you love him and then disappearing to who knows where for a month?  Ring a bell at all?”

She slams his credit card down in front of him and then stalks angrily into the back, leaving Harry to stare at the box of pastries.

***

Michelle slams the door in his face twice and the third time she keeps the door open precisely long enough for Daisy to run her paint sodden hands down the front of his suit before slamming it shut in his face again.

***

_Eggsy, I’m sorry.  I had to leave for a sudden business trip._

_New phone.  Who dis._

_It’s Harry_.

_FU_

Harry stares at the two letters and eventually resigns himself to asking Merlin what they mean.

“How should I know the current vernacular of young people?” He says before summoning one of his younger minions over.

She dutifully explains that FU means fuck you and kindly waits until she’s almost out of range before giggling at them.

***

“Is it stalking if I climb up to his window?”

“Harry, this is the boy who punched you in the face for putting a hand on his shoulder.”

“Ah.  Yes, I can see how my plan might not work.”

“Just a bit, yes.”

***

“I had a sudden business trip,” Harry tells Roxy, whose gaze could probably refreeze the ice caps.  “And it would be a terrible waste if the pastries I brought back were to go bad.”

Roxy’s gaze darts to her own freshly made pastries sitting in the display and guilt over food going to waste flickers across her face.  She sighs and holds her hand out for the box.

“Now get out,” she says after she tucks the box away.

Harry does and bumps into Percival on his way out.  The two of them stare at each other before Percival stiltedly says, “Harry.”

“Percy,” Harry returns, just as stiffly.

“Dad?” Roxy says in confusion.

In retrospect, the curling lettering spelling out _Lancelot & Percival’s Bakery_ above the shop should have been warning enough.

***

On the bright side, Roxy clearly knows about Kingsman because her anger at Harry evaporates almost instantly and she clucks her tongue at him before telling him she’ll do her best to figure out some way of getting Eggsy to see him.

***

_Rox says I have to talk to u even tho u been a berk_

_I am sorry for disappearing for a month.  It really was a sudden business trip._

Harry forgets to breath as the little dots signifying typing pop up at the bottom of his phone screen.

_Ye Rox said.  She said u and her old man work at the same place and that happens.  Still ducking pissed at u tho_

_Ducks?  What do ducks have to do with anything?_

_Fucking.  Shit autocorrect_

Harry smiles fondly and then types out _Did you like the cakes?_

Eggsy sends back a picture of him shoving a whole one into his mouth.

The trio of dots pop up and then disappear three times before coming up again for a long time.

_Mebbe we can get dinner and try again?_

_That would be lovely, Eggsy._

***

Michelle corners him in the foyer while he’s waiting for Eggsy to come down and Harry curses internally at allowing himself to be lured in.

“You hurt my baby again and I’ll make sure you regret it,” she hisses at him.  Daisy, who has her hand covered in something that looks suspiciously like mushy peas, looks contemplatively at his suit and Harry takes a subtle step out of range.

“I’ll do my best,” Harry says.

Michelle is clearly unsatisfied with his answer but she does back off as Eggsy comes down the stairs two at a time.

He’s dressed up in a deep emerald green shirt that brings his eyes out and slacks that are tight across the thickness of his thighs.  It takes immense force of will for Harry to look him square in the face instead of down.

He signs “you’re beautiful” at Eggsy, who glares at him even as the tips of his ears go pink.  Michelle makes a cutting motion across her throat from behind Eggsy’s back and Harry elects to offer his arm to Eggsy instead of responding.

They end up at a restaurant of Eggsy’s choosing and the hostess greets them by signing.  The menus all have depictions of hand signs underneath them and Harry signs his request for clarification to Eggsy.

_U can only order w BSL_

Eggsy puts his phone down and signs to the waitress for a beer and points to the Corona symbol.  She and Eggsy both turn to look expectantly at Harry, who fumbles through his request for the same.  Eggsy rolls his eyes fondly and immediately tries to play it off as a glare when he catches Harry smiling at him.

The waitress signs that she’ll be back in a moment to take their food orders and clacks away toward the bar to get their drinks.

_If I am not being presumptuous, may I call this a date?_

Eggsy’s eyes widen as he reads the text and a small smile curls at his lips.

_U talk like u from some old time bodice ripper novel w the dresses ripped to show boobs.  But ye guess u can_

Harry immediately drops his phone to reach his hand across the table to bring Eggsy’s hand up for a kiss.  Eggsy flushes brilliantly and the waitress reappears with a soppy smile at their antics.

Eggsy hastily jabs his finger at his dish of choice and Harry clumsily signs out the symbols under the chicken curry.  Eggsy has to correct him twice and there’s a warm feeling in Harry’s stomach every time Eggsy huffs and pulls at his hand to fix his signing.

Eggsy texts him _I forgive u_ partway through dinner and then pointedly doesn’t look at Harry for the rest of the meal.

***

Harry walks Eggsy back to his house and feels very much like a teenager escorting their first love back to the waiting arms of their parents.  He dots a kiss to the inside of Eggsy’s wrist and signs good night before stepping back.

He’s unprepared for the way Eggsy flings himself forward and attaches himself at the mouth.  Harry stumbles backwards and then turns them about and keeps walking until he’s got Eggsy pressed up against his front door.

Eggsy refuses to detach himself long enough to let Harry see which key he needs but eventually he gets the door open and they tumble inside.  Mr. Pickle lifts his head from his dog bed and then curls back up, pointedly ignoring them in favor of sleep.  Harry heaves Eggsy into a better position, hauling him up by his thighs until he can wrap them around Harry’s waist.  He chucks his keys onto the entrance table without looking and hears the thumps of Eggsy kicking off his shoes.

Harry blindly steps out of his Oxfords and steers them towards the couch.  Eggsy looks up long enough to see where they’re going before slamming his hands out to catch either side of the entrance to the living room.  He points upwards at Harry’s confused look and Harry says, “Bedroom?”

Eggsy smiles and wrestles his phone out of his pocket.  He types something out one handed and turns the phone to show Harry.

_Thought ud never ask_

***

Harry hopes, sincerely, that if he glares bloody murder at the back of Merlin’s head long enough, it will eventually catch fire.  He is not, no matter what Eggsy says, pouting because Merlin is better at BSL than he is.  Absolutely not.  Never mind that Merlin’s been using it for years to be able to communicate with several of the programmers in his department and Harry’s only been learning for a year now.

_Ur pouting again_

“Am not.”

_R too_

“A gentleman doesn’t pout.”

_Harry, ur pouting something mad_

Harry glares at him.  Eggsy quirks a smile and kisses his nose delightedly.

_Merlin can’t steal me away.  Ain’t got enough hair.  Plus idg half what he says and he’s head over arse for Rox_

That does make Harry feel a bit better.

_Sides, u kno I luv u best_

_I love you too_ , Harry signs out and the bright smile Eggsy turns on him never fails to make his stomach flutter and he leans in for a kiss that lasts until Merlin shouts at them to stop fraternizing in the control room.


End file.
